


in the backseat of a car, in the corner of a room

by ghostwit



Category: One Piece
Genre: Banter, Canon Compliant, Implied Sexual Content, Just a bit. Some dirty talk but barely., Kissing, M/M, Oh Yeah Baby. hsgcdhjb, That's kinda it huh., Uuuhh.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22222378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwit/pseuds/ghostwit
Summary: "Can I kiss you?" Doflamingo's lone eye winks at him, glasses raised to sit at his hairline and teeth hidden behind cheeks pinched tight with the weight of his smile, almost-fond."No."(In the shadows where I hide... from you.)(It's strange to say, you're the only angel I ever gave away.)
Relationships: Crocodile/Donquixote Doflamingo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	in the backseat of a car, in the corner of a room

"Can I kiss you?" Doflamingo's lone eye winks at him, glasses raised to sit at his hairline and teeth hidden behind cheeks pinched tight with the weight of his smile, almost-fond.

"No," Crocodile's voice is rough-edged with annoyance as he fists his hand in the younger's coat, feathers brushing against the smooth edge of bullion adorning the warlord’s fingers, slipping in the scant space between skin and unforgiving metal as he yanks the other level and captures his mouth.

Donquixote squeaks, undignified and gleeful, kisses messily enough that saliva slips from the seal of their mouths and makes Crocodile grimace, which only encourages the younger warlord. Crocodile’s hand shifts again, sets his rings against the ridges of cartilage in the blonde’s outstretched throat, pushes him just enough to split their frenzied contact, leaving Doflamingo licking grotesquely at the air between them, swallowing hard against the pressure of his fingers. 

The halls of Mariejois echo with the noise, marble floor polished like a mirror to wash their forms--Doflamingo, curled in on himself to strain towards the other man, and Crocodile, back arched powerfully and fist raised in tentative forfeit, the flare of their coats making them a singular, hungry beast--in argent light, regal and pale. Again, Doflamingo lists forward, feather coat shivering with the Crocodile’s rough yank, kisses him until Doflamingo’s drawing in desperate breaths through his nose and has puppeteer’s fingers wrapped around the nape of the other’s neck, makes Crocodile laugh condescendingly at his youthful eagerness (which makes Doflamingo shiver again, tasting the other’s august disposition). When he blinks up at him from beneath hooded eyes, his gaze is disinterested, but Donquixote’s face splits regardless, and they kiss again, again, again. 

Crocodile lowers his hand, controlled, drawing it back to his side and surging upwards in a dignified stretch, turning his head to spit on the sacred floor, hook drawing rough across his mouth to wipe the thread of saliva away. Grotesque, an insult to the fluid Donquixote had so graciously offered, and yet it makes him smile, spit on the ground in mimic. This makes Crocodile laugh, heady and rich, grinding his heel where they’d spit, and Doflamingo blinks down at him, enamored. Crocodile glances up to catch his expression, and his nostrils flare minutely, eyes widening and pupils narrowing to dangerous slits with the ridge of his brow hard.

Doflamingo can’t help it, reaching down and drawing the other man up to him, pulling him off the floor (which makes the other snarl, dig a heel into Doflamingo’s exposed calf hard enough to smart for minutes after) and burying his nose where his collar opens to show skin. He bats at him, ringed fingers thudding heavy on his high cheekbone, hook rudely finding purchase in the body of his coat, but the blonde simply closes his eyes, breathes deep. 

“Bastard, bastard--” Teeth make their way into the skin, buttons straining with the force of being pulled so far apart, and Crocodile swallows around a gasp. He diverts his surprise into an abrupt jerk of his arm, tearing the coat from Doflamingo’s hunched shoulders.

“Ah, good idea, Croco-man!” he laughs, tongue playing along the seam of his own bite mark, feeling out the divots carved in skin by bone. He flips him, sudden and hard, brings him down in the veritable nest with enough force to knock the wind from the older’s chest. Feathers rise around him, almost raucously in their sloppiness, swarming the gaps between his limbs and around his throat, everywhere the man himself isn’t pressing, firm and hot. The feathers kiss along his cheekbones, tickle his ears, and Doflamingo lowers himself to bite along Crocodile’s waistline through his shirt. His abdomen jumps at the attention, pressing the fabric into Donquixote’s cheekbone.

“Ruining my things,” Crocodile says around a grimace as saliva soaks the fabric, resigned enough to have let himself be flipped, but not quite enough to  _ really _ cooperate. He brings his legs up hook around the other warlord’s waist, which gets him a quirked eyebrow in return. The damn glasses are back, and he sneers. 

“You’re the one who tore my coat.” Doflamingo pouts a little, and Crocodile immediately vanquishes the word  _ cute _ from anywhere in his brain by bringing a hand up to the blonde’s crown and fisting in the hair there. He yanks, twice, for good measure. Fingers drum insistently against Crocodile’s clothed sides, pushing plush against the dips of his ribs. 

“Anything I could do to that monstrosity is an improvement.” Teeth find his belt, tasting the bitter of expensive leather, lathing over the texture of soft veining and dimpling, and give a firm tug. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” Doflamingo sighs, smiling wide, bringing a hand down to unlatch the fine buckle of Crocodile’s belt, untucking his shirt, the fabric fine and silky between his careless fingers (he revels in the way the deliberate untidiness brings forth a stark vein in Crocodile’s forehead) as he does with a theatrical flap, “how I do love your  _ tongue _ , Wani.” 

Crocodile crushes his grin with the crotch of his pants, feeling his teeth catch on the zipper of his pants, rolling his hips with a growl, and the puppeteer simply whines, high and happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really do just be writing foreplay and cutting away, eh? It's been a while so lemme just get rid of this draft. No real strong feelings on it. I DO like the initial premise of asking for a kiss and getting a "no" and still getting one, though, heh. 
> 
> As always, comments are always appreciated if you have anything at all to share! Thank you for reading.
> 
> hazeism.tumblr.com (what the fuck is a hyperlink? work for it mf)


End file.
